. . .Someone is sitting on the ground(?) in front of 4 holes. He is striking the ground beside the one third from the left. . .
I am buying a ticket for a bus trip with a singles group. I have bought my ticket from the organizer. That is fine. The next person is buying a ticket, and, somehow, my purchase is final until that next one is bought.
There is a pile of gold coins on the table in front of me--Canadian loonies. I reach for them, knock them over.
Now, I am ouside, looking for the bus. The only one in sight is an old, grayish one looking like a schoolbus. The ground is muddy. I am walking past that bus--it can't be the
right one. I go to where I think the bus station is; the building is falling down.
I come back towards the bus. It is doun a muddy hill. People are getting on. It is hard slogging through the mud.
. . .There is a plane. It is soaring. I feel excitment, or terror. . .